Not in Love
by kitsunekaino-mmerryddeath
Summary: Severus Snape and Ron Weasley are both capable of falling madly in love. Just not with each other. Will that be a problem or a blessing? Rated M for non-graphic slash and emotional turbulence.


Title: Not in Love

Author: MmerryDdeath

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing I tell you! I am merely a tramp passing through JK Rowling's lovely world and moving things around a bit.

They were both quite capable of love. Not the wet, soppy red hearts and flowers stuff that was celebrated nearly to death. Not the sickly, sugary, gentle thing spoken of in whispers by people who knew no better.

It was a different kind of love that they were capable of. Full of fire at first; all passion and hearts ablaze. Love that, unrequited, never abated. Enduring, unconditional love. They understood the pain of loving.

It was love that kept Severus balancing between two very dangerous men in first one war, then another. Love that kept him in a job he loathed teaching dunderheads so that he could be there to risk life and limb protecting a boy he hated (James' son-_her_ eyes).

It was that fierce, simple love that meant Ron rarely had lovers because he was too full of integrity to walk out with someone who wouldn't understand. Filled his nights with his own hand when the teenage hormones got too strong. Love that made him walk into a forest full of acromantulae. Love that meant he would do it again, without hesitation, if he needed to.

It was a type of love that burnt. Ron felt the knife in his chest when he overheard Harry and Seamus casually joking about queers - his feelings didn't change.

And they didn't love each other. Which was, in some strange way, a relief. There were no pretenses, no masks required. No need to hide the intense emotions that smouldered beneath each of their skins.

It had started with Ron aged sixteen, slightly pissed and stumbling through the dungeons. Caught by the notorious potions master, his tipsy tongue had garbled out the entire tragic story. To his undying surprise, there had been a strangely sympathetic look in his acerbic professor's eyes.

Somehow they ended up sprawled on the floor of Snape's office, drinking firewhiskey and something stronger that the professor had produced from a cupboard. They talked about love. About jealousy. About the drumming in their chests and the screeching pain of being overlooked, the frustrations of desperately wanting to get laid when the objects of their affection were, in whatever way, unattainable.

That was when Ron had crashed his mouth into Severus', grabbed fistfuls of the man's hair. Severus had pinned him to the floor, kissing back. They had both seen it in the others eyes; that this was lust and recognition. That each was, in this instance, a knife for the other to cut upon. Someone who understood.

Sex was brutal. Fast. Relentless and fuelled by their internal agonies. Ron's wrists were bruised, Severus' robe shredded. They devoured each other, panting and groaning as skin touched skin. For a time they lost the utter sense of pain in a haze of lust.

When it was over they lay on the floor, shuddering. Severus cast a warming spell on the stone slabs beneath them. They had a few more drinks and Ron snuck back to the tower.

Neither expected it to become a regular occurrence, but somehow it did. They would banter a bit, talk about their loves over a few drinks and fuck as if it was their last night on the planet. No-one ever guessed.

Ron would turn up in the dungeons when being around Harry became more than he could bear. Severus would give him detentions when the green eyes in his Potions class hurt too much.

Harry and Lily, the important people in their relationship.

"Pretty ironic."

Ron had commented, the first time either of them pointed out this fact. Snape glared at him.

"Do you even understand what 'ironic' means?"

The redhead shrugged, took another swig of firewhiskey.

"Does it matter?"

He had asked.

It hadn't

The war was hard on both of them, but through some freakish turn of events they survived. Severus had woken in the hospital wing to a familiar mop of ginger hair, and the news that he had already been acquitted of everything. They were both too exhausted to celebrate, though Ron did give Severus a bottle of finest scotch whisky the origins of which he refused to disclose. Snape had smirked, and declared he would make a Slytherin of Ron yet.

Then there were funerals, too many of them. Rebuilding the ministry with hundreds of new laws, and finally the weddings. Ron had been dreading the weddings. One in particular. Severus managed to avoid the entire social whirl with a demeanour that was, if anything, even spikier than before the war. Ron was envious.

The day after Ginny married the love of his life, Ron turned up at Spinners End. Severus let him in, and they drank the Scotch whisky that Severus would never admit to saving. They fucked on the kitchen table, and acquainted themselves to the new scars on each other's bodies. Neither bothered getting dressed. Instead they sprawled naked across Severus' sofa and talked; Ron was running a business selling modified muggle products, which was proving to be lucrative. Severus sold potions, wrote caustic essays and patented several recipes.

They didn't love each other; there was an understanding, a strange respect and an unspoken, mutual concern for the other's wellbeing. Also the sex, fuelled as it was by anger, passion, lust and guilt, was breathtakingly good.

It was Severus who brought it up, two years after the war. They had just finished their usual routine of snarling about the incessant hurt of being in love, shagging harshly and then reminiscing about the good times spent with Harry and Lily. Ron, overemotional and more than a bit tipsy, had sobbed out that at least he knew Harry was happy. Severus had looked contemplatively at the younger man, and had said, slowly, that perhaps they could be happy too.

"What do you mean?"

The redhead asked. Severus took a sip of his drink, taking his time. Ron waited, knowing that Snape hated to be rushed when talking about important things.

"Perhaps," he said eventually, "perhaps we should not look for more than this. Perhaps, if we can understand one another, then we do not need to be in love."

Ron was quiet as he thought. He sat up from his slump.

"Are you saying that we should... Come out to the world about this?

He had gestured wildly between them as he said 'this'. Severus shrugged with one lean shoulder.

"I will never stop loving Lily. It is doubtful your feelings for Potter will fade. Much as I dislike admitting it, we are able to... Understand each other. It is unlikely that anyone else would."

"Plus the sex is amazing."

"There is also that."

Ron thought, blinking blue eyes. Severus was silent, unreadable. Then the redhead smiled slowly.

"You know what? Fuck it. Fuck them all with their ideas of what we should be. If this is as happy as either of us is going to get, then lets bloody enjoy it without all the sneaking about."

"Absolutely. I believe I shall thoroughly enjoy the array of shocked Weasley faces."

"Not to mention your friends the Malfoys'"

They had argued for the rest of the evening, bitterly enjoying each moment. Ron moved in seven days later.

If asked whether they loved each other, Severus would raise a sharp eyebrow that silenced all but the most persistent questioners and Ron would laugh outright and say no. No we don't. But it works.

It was the most honest relationship that either had had. Not a single mask or pretense, able to be their undiluted, unprotected selves in each other's presence. And the sex was brilliant.


End file.
